


A Kiss for Good Luck

by Kiertorata



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Community: mini_fest, Dubcon Kissing, F/F, Fanart, Humor, New Year's Eve
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-19
Updated: 2018-01-19
Packaged: 2019-03-06 23:48:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 967
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13422210
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kiertorata/pseuds/Kiertorata
Summary: The Ministry New Year's Gala is a bore. Count on Pansy Parkinson to make it even more unbearable.





	A Kiss for Good Luck

**Author's Note:**

> Written and drawn for mini_fest 2017.

Dress robes, small talk, and the occasional awkward attempt at dancing. It was so very _boring_ , but if it meant a day out of the office, Ginny would take it. She shoved another cherry bruschetta into her mouth, washed it down with a gulp of sparkling wine and returned to her business of watching some burly ministry official make a fool of himself after one too many firewhisky sours. Maybe later, when Harry was done snogging Zabini behind the Christmas tree, they could make fun of all the stuffy wizards in their stuffy dress robes together.

She saw Pansy Parkinson make her way towards her in her minuscule violet cocktail dress and matching, glossy pumps. _Someone_ was clearly making the most of the Ministry New Year’s Gala, Ginny thought dryly, observing Parkinson flash a smile at a self-important looking ministry official before dragging her eyes back onto Ginny. She was no doubt approaching her to deliver the latest instalment of what Ginny liked to call The Daily Torment.

“Missed me?” Pansy said as she settled next to her, slightly too close for comfort. Her pug face was twisted into a self-satisfied smile.

“Hardly,” Ginny said. She finished her wine and set the glass down on some nearby railing. Daily Torment was only supposed to appear on workdays. Not on holidays and certainly not at parties. It seemed a bit unfair.

“Look at you, all glamorous and professional-looking in your dress robes,” Pansy started with a wave at her attire. The champagne glass in her other hand tipped dangerously. “And you decided to leave the Weasley jumper home tonight. Smart decision.”

“Thanks,” Ginny said. “And I see you forgot the lower part to your dress.”

Pansy just shrugged and grinned, clearly not bothered by the comment.

“What a lucky day this must be for you, with all this free food around,” she said, popping a cracker from a nearby tray into her mouth.

“Parkinson, we work the same job. You know how much I get paid,” Ginny said. Comments about her family’s relative poverty had ceased to hurt her when she had landed her first real job. The jabs at her wealth and status were all part of the ritual she had developed with Parkinson throughout the months they had worked together, and it almost felt like a shared joke by now.

Things had evened out after the war. Many of the old pureblood families had made it a point to make large donations and work proper jobs to clear their image in the eyes of the public. They were still filthy rich, of course, which Ginny made a point to remind Parkinson about when she got too comfortable on her high horse.

“You’re clearly enjoying the free drinks,” she said, watching Pansy grab another glass off a passing tray to replace her empty one. “How many of those have you had?”

“I lost count after five,” Pansy said. “My life motto is ‘never say no to free booze’.”

“That’s a solid bit of wisdom you’ve got there,” Ginny snorted. “Why the hell are you talking to me, Parkinson?”

“Came to say hello, of course. We _do_ work together,” Pansy said. “And I thought you looked a little pathetic, standing here all alone. I decided to take pity on you. Not all of us know our way around the crème of the wizarding society.”

The band had started to play bad covers of Celestina Warbeck songs. Had Harry been with her like he’d promised to be, Ginny would have had a plethora of entertaining comments to make. Where the hell was Harry? Ginny glanced at the large Christmas tree in the corner, but Harry and Blaise had seemed to abandon their hideout for a more private one.

“Looks like your date dumped you,” Pansy said, smirking.

“Harry isn’t my date,” Ginny said, trying not to roll her eyes.

“Oh, I know. I have to say it was pretty illuminating to see him grab Blaise’s arse in front of the Minister,” Pansy said. “What the hell is this band doing? Sounds like a hippogriff that’s swallowed a house-elf trying to cough it out while the elf is screeching.”

Ginny gave a little laugh, but realized what she was doing and tried to disguise it as a cough.

“So, no date then,” Pansy said after an uncharacteristically long pause. “Going to spend New Year’s alone? No kiss?”

“As if you care,” Ginny said, trying to ignore the odd smirk on Pansy’s face.

“It’s bad luck not to kiss anybody on New Year’s Eve.”

“Thanks for the tip, Trelawney,” Ginny said.

People around them were starting to migrate from their small groups over to the balcony. Distant fireworks and the exclamations of an admiring crowd could be heard.

“It’s almost midnight,” Pansy said.

“Astounding observation,” Ginny said. She was starting to regret not having grabbed another drink when the waiter had passed them. It was enough to have to endure Parkinson, but to do it _nearly sober_ was close to unbearable.

“Isn’t it a bit pathetic that even Potter has someone to snog on New Year’s and you couldn’t even—” 

“Look, I don’t see you with anybody either, so I wouldn’t be so smug about it,” Ginny said, starting to feel a little irritated.

The crowd around them had started to count down.

“Ten, nine, eight, seven...”

Pansy closed her eyes and started to lean towards Ginny.

“Parkinson, what the fuck are you doing?”

“Three, two, one!”

“Mmmh!” Ginny cried out as plump, painted lips pressed against hers. She nearly fell backward as she grabbed Pansy by the shoulder and pushed her off. “What the hell was that?”

“Happy New Year, Weasley,” Pansy said, smirking. And just like that, she twirled around, the hem of her dress fluttering, and sauntered away.


End file.
